


Maiden With the Eyes of Blue

by kindcolors



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-17
Updated: 2019-11-23
Packaged: 2021-02-07 17:03:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21461506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kindcolors/pseuds/kindcolors
Summary: Kaiba gains ownership of the millennium rod and his life gets.... strange.Versely, a woman wakes up in a place she has never seen before, lost and confused.Will their paths cross? Is all of this something Kaiba made up in his head? Find out!
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	1. Chapter 1

When she awoke, she could not remember her name or anything for that matter. She looked around the room; this was not her room. She looked out of the window; this was not her city. She looked at her hands; these were not her hands. She sped to the mirror. The nose, the eyes, the hair; not hers. The hands shook as they grabbed a chunk of hair, tugging it roughly. It hurt her, but she did not know why. She was in this body, but the body was not hers. She sat in the chair- it was an extremely comfy chair- and began staring down to a table. The desk had many boxes she had never seen before. They lit up, blinked, like the stars in the sky were brought to her lap and flashed in front of her. Ahead of the boxes were boards, boards with many symbols across its surface. She poked at a curved symbol, and it popped up on the box. Now, how did it do that? She scratched at the screen; nothing happened, minus her finding out that these boxes were warm to the touch. Also on the table was a staff. It was gold plated, with an eye insignia on the top. Two wing-like fixtures stuck out from the eye, and the whole rod ended down at a point. ‘This’, she thought as she held the item in her hand, ‘This is familiar.’ Still, she couldn’t tell why it was familiar. She mindlessly ran her finger down the staff, until she came upon its point. She unsheathed the item, revealing a blade. It was lost on her how she knew it was there. Impulsively, she pricked the finger with the blade. It stung, it bled. How confusing all of this was turning out to be. She laid back, staring up to the ceiling and the bright torch that shone down. She wondered how it was staying light so long. Honestly, she was wondering about twenty things at once, but it was nice to push her attention to the most harmless of her questions. Eventually, an overwhelming urge to close the eyes washed over her. With that, she was gone.

* * *

Seto Kaiba woke up with the worst headache he had ever had in his life, which was saying something considering the shit he had to go through so often. He took a panicked look around the room; everything was still in order from before he blacked out. Why did his finger hurt? He looked to his hands; his finger had the tiniest puncture wound. He didn’t do that, did he? His glance followed the small blood trail to the Millennium Rod that was just recently put into his possession. He didn’t even know the item hid a dagger or even a weapon of any kind. This was making him more and more confused the more he awoke. Seto Kaiba did not like not knowing things. With a sigh, he looked to his computer monitor to continue his work. …Now, where did that parenthesis come from?


	2. Chapter 2

Mokuba Kaiba nodded to the secretary as he rushed to his brother’s office, a pile of papers clasped in his hand. A few gingerly fell from his grasp, but Mokuba paid no mind; someone else would trail behind him and the paper would find its way to his brother. 

Seto had been acting… strange, recently; Mokuba knew his brother was odd before, but this was a different kind of different. He was spacey, distant. Mokuba was going to get to the bottom of this change if it was the last thing he did. 

With a hard shove to the door, the younger Kaiba entered the elder’s office. Said elder was sitting at his desk, analyzing a stapler. The elaborate leather trench coat that Seto made his trademark look was thrown on the floor in an undignified pile. Mokuba sighed and stepped closer to the desk. 

“Have you get any work done here today?” Mokuba huffed, looked to his brother; Seto was still distracted by the stapler. 

“Seto!” Mokuba snapped. Seto still ignored him. 

“How interesting is that freaking stapler,” he groaned, slamming the paper pile onto the desk. “Here. Your intern is sick today, so I had to interrupt some very important work to deliver these to you.” That got Seto’s attention; he sheepishly sat the stapler back down, then looked between the pile and the boy. 

“Well? Nothing to say?” 

Seto’s gaze was kept downwards; Mokuba sighed and scratched his head. 

“What’s up with you, Seto,” Mokuba asked as he pulled up a chair, “You’re not even gonna talk to me anymore?” 

In a snap movement, Seto snatched a paper from the pile and a pen from a cup and began scribbling. 

“What’re you doing!? Those are legal-” Mokuba’s panicked words were slowed as he looked to what his brother was writing. It wasn’t any language Mokuba had been taught- and Seto taught him many, many languages. Mokuba couldn’t even tell if it was words; once Seto dropped the pen and resumed his downturned looks, Mokuba took the paper in his hand and chuckled. 

“These look like hieroglyphics,” he said, and Seto nodded. “... You’re kidding. You’ve decided to write to me… in hieroglyphics…” 

Mokuba silently folded the paper and stuffed it into his pocket. 

“Well then,” Mokuba sighed, “I’m off. Good luck on getting these done, big bro.” With a small wave from Seto, Mokuba turned and walked out of the office. 

He closed the door behind himself and took the paper from his pocket. He looked to it as he went down the hall to his own office, walking in and sitting it down in front of his computer. He cracked his knuckles and went to work. 

It took little time to find a reliable source for translation, so Mokuba began writing out letters underneath the hieroglyphs. 

Eventually, Mokuba had something, which just looked like gibberish: “i am nt w yu zinc i am. i aplgiz.” He filled in a few letters, took a few liberties, and had what he considered a good enough translation: 

“I am not who you think I am. I apologize.” 

Mokuba blinked down to the paper and rubbed his eyes; something happened and Mokuba knew he was not going to like it. He shoved the note back into his pocket and headed back towards Seto’s office. 

Once he went in, he noticed that Seto had begun tackling the large pile of forms with the same diligence he normally did; whoever wrote him the note was not there currently. 

“What, Mokuba,” Seto asked as another paper was put into the makeshift ‘completed’ pile on the edge of the desk. 

Mokuba’s hand hovered as he debated whether or not to show the letter. “It’s nothing, just checking on you.” 

Well,” Seto chuckled, “I’m doing just fine, other than having to sign papers that I could’ve sworn were meant for other people to initial. You?” 

The letter would stay in his pocket. “I’m fine, Seto.” 

Kaiba gave a curt nod and continued signing papers. Later, Mokuba decided; he’d try again later. 

Later didn’t come until a week had passed; Mokuba caught Seto staring out the window, a lost look glazed over his eyes. 

“Hey?” Mokuba whispered, still in his pajamas on the lazy Saturday morning. Seto turned to Mokuba slowly. There wasn’t any way Mokuba could describe the way his brother looked than ‘different’. His hair was parted different, a single strand dangling in between his eyes where it would usually be swept neatly to the left. Seto’s eyes would be a different hue of blue and a lot more doe-like. Cobalt would be slid to a more aquamarine tone; it was a silly way to track who Mokuba was talking to, but it helped him get used to whatever was happening. 

Mokuba continued, “I… translated your note..? If you’re not Seto, who are you..?” 

Seto shrugged his shoulders. 

“Well, thanks, that helps a lot.” 

Seto rose and stumbled towards the stairs, and Mokuba followed. He went into his bedroom, slowly opening the bedside table drawer and holding his Duel Monsters Deck in his hands. Seto shuffled through it, then stopped at a very familiar best. 

He pointed between the Blue Eyes White Dragon and himself.

Mokuba followed his brother’s finger with his eyes, then finally said something. 

“... What?” 

Seto sighed lightly and put the deck back, closing the drawer and folding his hands together. 

“So,” Mokuba pulled his legs onto the bed, “You are not my brother. You are a hieroglyphic writing dragon possessing him sometimes.”

Seto nodded quickly and Mokuba laughed. 

“I think I’m just as lost as you now.” 


End file.
